


Honey's Voice

by DevilOfWire



Series: DevilOfWire's Kinktober 2020 [6]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blindfolds, Bottom Carlos, Established Relationship, Food Play, Honey, Humor, Kinktober 2020, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sensory Deprivation, Smut, Top Cecil Palmer, Voice Kink, Waxplay, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:02:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26862577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilOfWire/pseuds/DevilOfWire
Summary: 6. Free Use| Sensory deprivation | Waxplay (but with honey)On the rare occasion where things begin to get boring in Night Vale, Cecil knows how to heat things up.Especiallyin the bedroom.
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer
Series: DevilOfWire's Kinktober 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950421
Kudos: 41
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	Honey's Voice

**Author's Note:**

> **IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 DO _NOT_ READ.**
> 
> Neat things while wearing a blindfold, indeed. 
> 
> Mainly did this cause I think voice kink is awesome and totally fits the audio-only aspect of Night Vale… and I like honey! That’s it :)

“Can you see anything, Dear?”

“Not even light!”

“Good.” Footsteps echo away, only to return shortly after. “Now, would you like to know what else I’ve prepared?”

“Oh,” Carlos breathes in, a smile appearing to his face, although he’s not sure if he should be excited or filled with dread, “you’ve prepared more things? I thought the blindfold would be enough-”

“No. We did that last time. This time, I thought of some more things, too.”

“Well, that sounds... fun! Potentially.”

“Oh,” he hears the smile in Cecil’s voice, “I think it will be.”

Carlos gulps to himself in the chair in the middle of their bedroom. After years of living in Night Vale, he’d long ago gotten used to most of the weird ongoings... or, at least, he thinks so. Because the other possibility is that living here for so long had slowly morphed his personality and mind, seemingly life everyone else, but that would be impossible, surely.

Either way, out of all the strange residents here, Cecil is the one he knows and trusts the most. But he’s not without his own inexplicable quirks, definitely not. In fact, he’s quite full of peculiarities. But so are all natural Night Vale citizens, it seems.

So when he feels something soft and smooth running over his right wrist, he’s surprised, but not terrified. Being blind like this is something he’s definitely not used to, and it cements to him just how much he relies on his sight. Left in the dark, he can only guess by touch what it is that Cecil’s doing.

Whatever it is, it wraps around his wrist, and pulls. Unsure of the whole thing, but trusting his husband’s gentle but confident touch, Carlos puts up no resistance, and soon his hand is pressing between his back and the wooden chair.

Carlos is sure Cecil’s doing it on purpose, taking the object and tickling it feather-light over his other hand, before wrapping it fully around. Allowing him to get a sense of what it is without telling him.

Before his hands are even brought together behind his back, Carlos already has it figured out by the long dimensions of it, the soft, satin-like texture. In fact, he’s sure that it’s satin.

“You’re bounding my wrists together with a satin ribbon?”

“Astute observation, as always. Wonderful job.”

Carlos feels a shiver up his spine, both from the cloth being tied and knotted, firmly locking his arms behind his back, and from Cecil’s voice alone.

You know, listening to the radio is pretty much voluntarily blinding oneself. At least, you don’t need your eyes, nor your hands, to listen to it. Instead, one occupies their mind primarily with their ears for hours on end, giving up visuals to fall back on sounds and words.

Carlos used to avoid the radio just because of Cecil’s voice. And because it distracted from his very important, scientific job. And because it was a little weird to hear someone hitting on you to potentially hundreds of strangers.

But then he realized the folly of valuing one’s job over literally everything else in life, all its endless possibilities and adventures, and gave Cecil a chance that fateful night. It was then that he realized that, yes, Cecil was a distraction from his work, but he was a good one. A necessary break in the constant tedium of algorithms and formulas that somehow saved the day just in time, and being honest, even he didn’t know how it worked half the time.

But his voice. Oh, his voice. Like melted honey and sugar, translated into audio format.

“I have something else,” Cecil says with that lovely voice, close to Carlos’ ear, so he definitely can’t miss it.

“Oh, you do? How many more things do you even have?”

“Just one.”

“Oh. Can I ask what it is, this time?”

Cecil makes an “eeeeh” sound with his voice, which means to him, “not really”.

“Okay,” Carlos chuckles. “But it better not hurt me!”

Cecil laughs himself, although it’s less jovial, more... almost sadistic, dare he say. “Oh, I promise it won’t. At least, I don’t think it will.”

Well... that wasn’t very reassuring.

But now tied as well as being blinded, Carlos can only sit there, breathing deep, waiting for whatever was about to happen.

“First, though, I need to take your shirt off.”

“Hah, well, I guess you’ll have to untie m-”

He feels it at the same time he hears it: a pull at his chest, and the unmistakable ripping sound of cloth being shredded into two.

And seeing as it’s in one smooth, uninterrupted motion, Carlos can only guess that Cecil just pulled out the pocket knife he always has on him, and just used it to cut the front of his shirt open.

He draws in a breath, fully intending on berating Cecil for such a brazen action—that was  _ his _ shirt, after all! But then he just breathes it out, already defeated. He has plenty more, of course. Same colour and style and everything. And Cecil would definitely never admit to this being a bit out there, because that’s just the kind of guy he is, Carlos guesses.

So when Cecil is forced to cut his shirt at the shoulders to fully slip it off, Carlos only sighs. And tries to stay totally still. Wouldn’t want his throat getting slit or anything. He kinda does need that, after all.

But with the shirt finally nicely cut and just to his liking, Cecil throws the tattered remains to the floor, immediately forgotten.

Then something opens with a metallic sound, and Carlos is once again left to wonder what’s going on. And now he’s cold and with one less shirt, to boot.

But he doesn’t have to wonder too long, because soon enough, he has his answer.

Well, not really. But he does get something, something that nearly makes him jump out of the chair as it hits the skin of his arms, tied back against the chair.

“Oh, it’s okay!” Cecil’s voice immediately soothes, hushing his squeaks. “It’s nothing harmful, promise! Actually, it might even be good for you, hehe!”

“Wh-what is it?”

“Oh, you’ll figure it out,” Cecil certainly winks.

And then he pours more of that... whatever it is, on Carlos’ skin.

Whatever in the world it is, it’s warm, almost hot, obviously heated to an unnatural extent. But unlike most liquids as such warm temperatures, it’s still rather thick, leaving a trace of residue in its wake as Carlos tries pressing and separating his wrists where it slowly runs down to.

“Got it yet?’

“Is it... candle wax?”

Cecil tuts his tongue, “No, no, no. I mean, the idea’s the same, essentially, but it’s even better! Here, have a try!”

And before Carlos can say oh no, he’s good, there’s a spoonful of some strange substance in his mouth.

His eyes instantly widen despite the blindfold making it useless, wanting instantly to gag as he knows not what he just got roughly inserted into his mouth.

But, of course, he should’ve known that he could trust Cecil.

Because the flavour immediately explodes on his tongue, certainly warm, but not burning. Sweet and sugary, it’s unmistakable.

“Honey,” Carlos breathes after swallowing the small amount down.

“Yes?” Cecil jokes. “Just kidding, well done, my smart and brilliant scientist!”

“Those are both synonyms-”

Carlos is cut off in his corrections by a sharp gasp, as yet more of that  _ honey _ is poured down his hands. But not just his hands this time, no, both of his arms, entirely.

It’s simultaneously a pleasant and highly uncomfortable sensation, as it sticks up his arms, absorbing into the satin binding his hands together.

Soon, however, the pouring stops, leaving only that unusual sugary trail after it, the rest pooling in the chair which Carlos tries carefully to keep from seeping into his pants and ruining those, too.

It’s a good thing Cecil didn’t think to bind his ankles to the chair legs, or else he’d probably cut them as well. Instead, he’s simply able to slide them down and off his long legs, taking his boxers with them.

Leaving him entirely nude in the chair, and also unable to even see himself, an odd spectacle.

But no matter, stranger things have happened in this very strange town, and Carlos can certainly take a little bit of embarrassment sat in this chair with his husband just staring at him-

Oh.

“Oh!”

“How does it feel?”

Carlos whimpers under his breath, hips shifting despite him, at that warm sensation in an even odder spot. Between his legs, that is. “Like honey. And stickiness.”

Cecil might nod, but if he does, Carlos can’t see it. He really should know better than to nod to an unseeing audience by now, right?

Whatever, Carlos knows he’s  _ probably _ fine, and that getting honey poured all over his cock  _ probably _ won’t lead to anything weirder.

Oh, who’s he kidding? It definitely will.

Despite himself, he grows hard under the thick flow of the warm honey, increasing the blood flow to his cock until it grows to fullness. Adding even more to his shame, as he knows Cecil’s just standing there, probably with a hand on his hip, the other on the jar or bottle or whatever it is, observing him as attentively as Carlos might a supernatural phenomenon.

And Carlos must say, being on the flip-side of a scientific study, it’s quite uncomfortable.

“Ah,” a voice finally comes, instantly soothing all his worries with its baritone notes, “I’ve run out.”

“Oh, well, I guess we can just start to clean up, then-”

“No,” Cecil laughs, husky and almost oddly menacing, forcing Carlos to swallow, “we’re not done yet, bunny! Not nearly done yet...”

Carlos inhales as fingers come right down on his cock, little grace, and more power—or perhaps desperation—as they glide straight down with the flow of the honey, a single pump that makes him thrust his hips nonetheless.

He hears footsteps beside him, heavy leather on the wooden floor, and then that lovely voice is right next to his ear.

“I know you can’t see it, sweetie, but I must say, you look wonderful like this.”

“I-I do?” Carlos squeaks, as that hand dips lower, cupping beneath his cock and roaming to a different area, almost more sensitive in some ways. Certainly more forbidden, at least.

“Oh, yes,” Cecil purrs, a deepness to his voice like hardly ever heard, but for moments of intense passion like this. Like he’s not just filled with desire, not just cherishing or admiring like he used to when he revered him like a literal God, but like he’s... hungry. Almost.

But that’s just a silly idea, Carlos thinks to himself.

And then Cecil’s fingers press inside of him, the sticky liquid of the honey barely aiding in his efforts, but it’s better than nothing at all.

“Your skin is so rosy and flawless all over,” Cecil says, his other hand coming down the opposite side of the chair, tickling over his side until it draws up his waist and to his breast. “I wish I could just touch all of you at once. Every last inch of your flesh, all the way through.”

Well, that doesn’t really make sense, but Carlos can’t say as much, because then Cecil’s finger crooks into him just right, against that tiny gland that makes him see stars and his cock jump with electricity.

“How I wish I could be one with you more than just in my fingers or my cock. I wish I could show you, in some way deeper than our physical bodies, that I could reach into the very depths of your being and show you.”

Cecil’s breath is hot against the inside of his ear, as Carlos’ breathing is reaching a peak, a couple of fingers pinching his nipple he’d slathered with honey as well, the other hand now three digits deep inside of him, brushing his thumb against his twitching cock.

“I wish I could show you, with more than just words, or pleasure or pain, just how much  _ I absolutely adore you.” _

And with those words so tenderly, dangerously whispered in his ear, all the other sensations and hands and fingers running up and down his body hot and sticky and blind and bound, Carlos bucks his hips one last time, hard, and cums all over his stomach in white jets.

Cecil hums his approval, but it’s certainly still dripping with that almost carnivorous tone.

If Carlos didn’t know any better, he’d almost be fearful, tied up and blinded like he is, utterly unable to defend himself.

But he knows better than that.

A hand brushes against his chest, and before Carlos can stop him, he hears a wet pop and an immediate “Mmm,” around a finger filthy with both honey and seed.

“You really are delicious,” Cecil murmurs. “Almost more than the honey! Haha. Anyway, would you like me to untie you now?”

Carlos furrows his brow, both at the sudden change of tone—Cecil’s voice having gone back to the normal, more chipper rise and fall of it—and at the proposition.

“You want to... just untie me?”

“Sure. You’ve been struggling there for, like, ten minutes. It’s the last I could do, really,” he smiles, easily undoing the knot behind him.

“B-but... But what about you?”

“What about me?” Cecil asks, sounding completely innocent. Like he hadn’t just said all those borderline insane things but a minute ago. “Really, honey, we should get you cleaned up. How’s a warm bubble bath and dinner sound?”

“... Good.”

“Great!” Cecil pulls the blindfold off, Carlos blinking under the lights that suddenly seem so bright.

“And then after that...” Cecil grins, wide and white as he comes into view of Carlos for the first time since he was blindfolded.

But then that smile suddenly narrows, as do his eyelids, a look as intense as his voice as it deepens yet again, “You can join me in bed, and I’ll try to show you for real this time.”

“W-what?”

“Come on!” Cecil chuckles, snapping Carlos up by the wrist and completely ignoring the tacky residue. “The longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be to scrub the chair!”

Carlos wasn’t sure if that’s the way that worked, or what that was, back there, but he decides not to question it.

There would be plenty of time for analysis later.

But for now, a bubble bath sounded just wonderful.

... And, honestly,  _ whatever _ was going to happen later, he was looking forward to that, too.

**Author's Note:**

> * * *
> 
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> * * *
> 
> I hope that was suitably weird! And what does happen later, hmmm… I’ll leave that up to imagination, for now ;) Ty for reading!!


End file.
